


Stay

by Wunderchick



Series: Angsty Boyfriends With Communication Problems: the trilogy [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry makes uncalled for song refs, Everyone in the entire universe knows Eddie as 'pretty boy' it's official now, M/M, mentionned Mick and Lisa for additional fab
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wunderchick/pseuds/Wunderchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up of What You're Doing To Me and Damn This Wild Young Heart. After realizing he's been lowkey an ass to Len, Barry rushes to meet his boyfriend and have some serious words. Well, as serious as it gets when a nerd and a pun machine force themselves out of their comfort zone, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Oh how I struggled to give birth to this one! But it's over three times the length of part 2 so I'm pretty proud of myself. Feedback is always welcome, it might even help me get less shy about all the other Coldflash ideas I have on the backburner ;D

Having someone knock at nine in the evening generally meant trouble, especially when your name was Leonard Snart. The only times people had bothered to make their presence known when looking specifically for him, guns had been waiting on both sides of the door. So it was only understandable that the man had his cold gun in hand as he silently crept up to the door, listening intently for any clue as to who would get cryogenized that night.

The muffled but all too familiar voice mumbling “erm, it’s Barry, so you can drop the gun by the way” from outside was a pretty straight answer, so Len allowed his arm to rest along his body, cold gun a natural prolongation to the limb. The thief opened the door, finding one disheveled yet determined-looking Barry Allen on his doorstep. His favorite kind of delivery, no doubt.

“I have questions for you,” Barry said hastily as he made his way to the living space once Len had opened the door, stepping to the side for his boyfriend to come in.

“And I for you. Why did you knock?” Len’s tone held more curiosity than caution, one eyebrow raised with the thief’s usual elegance. If he put his mind to it, he could really turn into some sort of Arsene Lupin, Barry thought for the thousandth time. Which reminded him of the conversation they needed to have, so once he had plopped down on the sofa, he turned back around towards a still vaguely surprised Captain Cold.

“Because I have questions. Among other things.”

“Sense isn’t one of those tonight, it seems. Beer?”

Barry thought of rejecting the offer, then figured it would be good to have something to keep his hands occupied when the discussion took a complicated turn. Knowing how quiet Len got whenever things such as feelings were brought up, awkward silences would repopulate the small hideout in no time flat.

“Beer would be nice, thanks.”

A few seconds later the two men were sitting face to face on the couch, Barry nursing the cold beer in his hands, Leonard taking a swig because his boyfriend was radiating discomfort and hesitation, two incredibly ominous things if their past fallouts had taught him anything. Another thing he had learned from those, though, was that no matter how tough it was to formulate the foreign feelings that had gripped his chest lately, the challenge was always worth it. Those two weren’t still together thanks to a miracle of any kind, after all. Honesty and persistence always paid.

“So what brings you here tonight, Scarlet ?” Len asked in his most nonchalant tone, despite the vague sense of dread floating in the atmosphere. He knew from experience his boyfriend would never say things exactly the way he meant them if the person he was talking to seemed too tense. Not hurting other people’s feelings always came first to the speedster, even if he had to hurt himself instead in the process. But Len Snart would have none of it— especially tonight, if he listened to his gut instinct.

What Barry said next drove Len from worried to utterly confused.

“I came here to apologize.”

“What for ?” (raised eyebrows asked that question on their own, but the words had come out of his mouth anyway.)

The hero’s shoulders slumped visibly, causing Len’s maelstrom of feelings to throw confusion on the backburner in favor of apprehensive concern. He was just about to grumble an exhausted “what have you done _this_ time” when the answer was thrown at him in true fastest-man-alive fashion.

“I haven’t been treating you correctly lately and I, well, I came to tell you that I’m sorry.”

It was all the rogue could do to huff an unimpressed “imaginary offenses forgiven, kid, but only because I am feeling magnanimous” because seriously, what?

“Len, no, listen to me!”

Barry had that steely determination in his eyes, and his hand shot out at above average human speed to rest on his boyfriend’s knee, regaining the attention he felt he had lost. There wasn’t much the leader of the Rogues could do now that he had met those eyes, all hopeful and fierce despite the speedster’s obvious anxiety about what came next. That range of emotions would make Leonard antsy, usually: he would start drumming his fingers on his leg and bite down on his tongue to keep from moving too much and betraying his own distressed state, but Barry’s words so far hadn’t sounded like the prelude to a breakup, so his rotten criminal of a lover allowed himself an easy breath or two.

It felt wrong that the idea of losing the kid, even simply this particular connection to each other, would put him in such a state of discomfort. No, not wrong: unusual. Uncomfortable. Strange. Unwelcome, maybe; possibly. He had never wanted to cling to anyone like this before— except for Lisa, of course, but that was different. She was family, the part of your life you don’t get to choose but you still have to look after under most circumstances. They were bound to one another whether he liked it or not, and caring for her was only natural. But Barry— Barry was something else entirely. Len had fallen for him, waited for him, chosen him with his heart and his head (at least he _hoped_ his head had played a part in this whole thing), and it was dangerous.

But hell, Len lived for danger, so he sighed and stared in those big doe eyes that always got him to do a lot more than he was entirely willing to.

“Alright, Red, I’ll listen. But you will tell me one thing first: is it going to be one of those times when you open the darkest corners of your heart to me, meaning I’ll get very lost about how to react and consequently pretend to not think much of it, which you won’t buy into so you’ll get upset that I’m not being as open in return, which will lead us to an even longer, deeper conversation that will leave the both of us emotionally and mentally drained?”

Barry nodded, looking both apologetic and amused. “It’s absolutely going to be one of those moments, yes.”

Len groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose, and promptly got up from the couch. “I’m gonna need something stronger than beer.”

“You know that’s totally unfair, right?” the young superhero whined, not moving from his spot. He didn’t actually mind: when he had had a little too much to drink, Len really _did_ get more open about his feelings, leaving his bad habit of being overly cautious with words behind with his sobriety. It made their open-hearted talks much easier, and the Rogue was always careful not to drink so much that he would forget what had happened— that would ruin the purpose of drinking for the sake of conversation, obviously. Besides, he had been drinking less during such confrontations lately. Not by much, and he still had to down at least two shots before he could actively participate, but Barry held good hope the older man soon would be able to deal with heart-to-hearts sober.

“You’re the one starting those things, why should you have the privilege of dulling the awful feeling that comes with it?” Len drawled out, a hint of mischief in his voice. He sat back down on the couch, returning to his previous seat, and put down a glass and a near-empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table parallel to them. “So,” he said as he started pouring some of the transparent liquid in his glass, “what brought the apology on?”

Barry heaved a sigh, one hand flying to the back of his neck in that sheepish motion he had probably been doing in the womb already. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About you, I mean. Of course I do some other kind of thinking, you know, because my job requires me to think, like a lot, and even at S.T.A.R. Labs I need to get my head in the game all the time so thinking constantly isn’t exactly rare or anything, but—”

“Barry for the love of God, please get to the point.” ( _or else you will ramble forever and I’ll be a bit tipsy before you even say a word about the real motive behind your visit, and we’ll have to do it all over again, and you’re starting to make me anxious— again_ , was what Len didn’t say, downing his first glass instead, but Barry understood it anyway. So he took a deep breath, set his now lukewarm, half-drunk beer on the table, and-)

“I’ve been trying to get you to change your ways for very selfish reasons, and it’s bad. But please let me explain more before you say anything?”

It was a humble request, one Leonard would grant him wholeheartedly because he actually liked what he had just heard. He had always known the kid would try his hardest to reform him, but if they got to talk about all their hidden issues maybe Len would be able to think of this relationship as the only good, safe, and healthy one he’s ever had once again. He didn’t mind the more heroic side of Barry hammering home the “actual goodness of his heart” drill as much, but he didn’t like his boyfriend going around babbling about how much of a good guy his Lenny truly was. Delusions weren’t exactly welcome in his perfect relationship scenario.

“Go on, I’ll be listening. Make sure to use our safe word when you’re through and I’m allowed to speak again,” he added with fake humor, obviously resorting to diminishing the impact the conversation would have on him, as he had warned he’d do.

“Right, okay. So erm, me trying to push the hero gig on you, I, uh… I know I kept saying I was doing it for you, because I was worried you’d get caught or something, and I mean all that is true, but mostly I was just…” A wince made its way on Barry’s face then, like simply thinking about it spurred a heavy dose of second-hand (past-hand?) embarrassment. The way Len saw it it was humbling, how the kid would repetitively step out of his comfort zone to smooth things over. Most people Len knew would rather keep their head high and ruin whatever good they had in life than own up to their mistakes and try to fix them. Then again, Len’s acquaintances did not really bother with moral standards.

Frowning slightly in concentration, he leaned in closer to Barry, arm sprawled on the back of the sofa, close enough to thread fingers through light brown hair in case comfort was needed. The proximity seemed to help the younger male regain some of his initial courage, and he let an exhale carry the words out of his mouth.

“I’mjustscaredyou’llleaveeventuallybecausealifeofcrimeisn’tverycompatiblewithacrimefightingmetaboyfriendandIknowyouloveyourlifestylealotsoIthoughtifIcoulddosomethingaboutitthenthere’dbemorechancesofyoustayingwithmebut I was wrong, I’m sorry.”

The kid kept his head hanging low, not meeting Len’s eyes with his own, obviously ashamed by what he had just admitted to. He must have been expecting a reaction of some kind, but as none came he looked up slowly, until he could see the blatant look of confusion painted on his lover’s face.

“I didn’t catch any of that but the end, Scarlet. It seems like you’re gonna have to repeat yourself.”

Well, damn it. Groaning, Barry sat up straighter. Even though Len hadn’t understood him the first time, getting the words out had felt ultimately relieving. For all his dislike of confrontations, the CSI found that after the storm things were always more peaceful. So he squared his shoulders and tried again, slower, hazel-green eyes staring straight into icy blue ones.

“You know people leave, right?”

Fingertips brushed lightly against soft, warm skin, the hair standing on Barry’s neck at the motion. “Yes, I do.” Leonard’s voice was low, adapting to all the words he could have said after those three, but didn’t need to. The speedster was familiar with his lover’s background, and he knew exactly what the other man was implying. They had both been through their fair share of loss, so if anything they could understand each other’s resulting neuroses with ease.

“I’m just scared that you won’t stay with me either, especially with your whole, you know, criminal life thing going on. I know we agreed not to talk about those parts of our lives more than strictly necessary but it’s still there, Len, and you know I can’t get on your side of things, but I thought, if you don’t get on mine then there will always be this invisible wall between us that’ll make it easier for you to leave, you know what I mean?”

The thief bit down on his lip. He should have seen that one coming- that particular conversation would have to be brought up eventually, because one does not simply play cops and robbers while trying to maintain a relationship. The problem was, Len wasn’t sure he was ready for it just yet. Good for him Lisa had taken it upon herself to coach her big brother in the art of baring his heart to another human. She had drilled three rules in his head, and he went through them before saying anything, Lisa’s voice clear as if she were right there in the room: _one, do not lie. Two, use the simplest words you can find. There’s always room for improvement later on in the conversation. And lastly, three: do NOT fucking lie Len, you hear me?_

He heard her. Generally.

“I can’t say I haven’t shared those… concerns… myself.”

Barry interrupted him before he could add anything. “Double negation, Lenny? Really?” He almost chuckled when he said, “I thought Lisa’s rules were clear.”

Len’s blood ran cold in under a second, and he stopped moving altogether. The look on his face must have been priceless, because Barry all but fell off the couch laughing, arms tightly wound around his stomach like it would somehow keep his hysterical barks from beating him up from the inside. Lisa and her big mouth- another thing he should have seen coming, because of _course_ his sister couldn’t keep herself from bragging. The leader of the Rogues could see it perfectly in his mind’s eye: Barry and Lisa, sitting at the kitchen table in one of the Snarts’ lairs. Barry astonished by the (relative) ease with which his boyfriend had explained himself after one argument or another, and the young woman practically glowing with pride, smirking as she probably asked for a thank you in the form of a dozen cronuts.

“So it’s true what they say: there really _is_ no honor amongst thieves.”

That sent Barry laughing even louder, aborting his attempt at crawling back on the couch. Len nudged him in the ribs with his sock-clad toes, purely out of spite, and poured himself another shot of vodka. One for the money, two for his sister’s sudden but inevitable betrayal.

“Does that mean the end of our little heart-to-heart then?” he asked innocently with his lips against the rim of his glass, raising an eyebrow at a Flash whose face had turned as red as his uniform.

That one question had the anticipated effect, sobering the younger one up immediately. Finally scrambling back to his seat, Barry pressed himself flush against Len’s side, resting his head on the Rogue’s shoulder. He’d rather be able to look at him as he spoke, but he knew for a fact not having to face his boyfriend properly would help Len get it over with. He was one of those people who only opened up when no one was listening.

“I sometimes wondered if you weren’t trying to conform me to what you had in mind. Another, better me, if you like. I ended up thinking that other guy was the one you had been dating all along instead of me.”

When he didn’t say anything more, the speedster heaved a sigh, lacing their fingers together. Hopefully the message was clear: neither of them was going anywhere.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I swear I’m not cheating on you with a made-up you.”

“Well _that’s_ reassuring,” came the easy answer, punctuated with a light squeeze of their hands.

Barry simply smiled in Len’s shoulder, burrowing his face there a little bit more. As much as he appreciated the silence, though, he couldn’t help but feel there was a lot more to say. Besides, if the issue wasn’t dealt with thoroughly it would rise up again, and there was no insurance the end result would be so tidy next time. So instead of leaving things as they were, Barry decided to dig a little deeper.

“You know, coming to think of it, the only way for you not to become a rogue was if you’d had another life completely, which means you’d be a totally different person right now. Kind of like…” He paused, trying to figure out the best way to finish his sentence. He didn’t want to cause any outrage with a half-assed comparison. “I think you’d be a little too much like Eddie if you were, you know, warmer and legal and all, so…”

A choked sound immediately answered him, and then Leonard was lost to the world in a chorus of violent coughs, shakily placing his now-empty glass on the table. Maybe the speedster should have thought his words through a little longer. So sue him.

“Pret- pretty boy?” Len asked once he was done wheezing, punching his chest once or twice. Barry frowned as much at this as at the nickname, and then he realized: he had a type. 

Casually understanding his two favorite people in the world were similar in more ways than one was a rather staggering epiphany. How had he not seen the parallels between Iris and Len before? Their audacity, the way they’re both so grounded and determined, how they would throw themselves into the craziest situations with bravado verging on stupidity, and mostly, their sometimes endearing, but overall frustrating stubbornness. So, sure, they also were very different in many ways, but there were core values and qualities in the two of them that Barry admired deeply, entirely justifying why he had fallen in love with such intensity twice in his life.

All of a sudden he let go of Leonard’s hand, rose from his spot on the sofa, and sat back down practically in his lap, runner thighs on either side of strong denim-clad legs, dexterous hands balled up around a fistful of plain white tee.

Len recovered from his coughing-slash-laughing fit immediately, sobered up by what he initially thought to be one of Barry’s rare, but fierce, bouts of possessiveness. He knew different as soon as he met his lover’s eyes, empty of that dangerous, crackling electricity, although there was definitely a determined spark there. He opened his mouth to inquire about the sudden change in mood, but the speedster cut him short by cupping the older man’s face, looking earnest as he ever got.

“I love you, Len. Don’t change a thing.”

The declaration was as effective as it was simple and it broke down the dam that had been holding Len’s feelings with consistency, his emotions pouring out of him like an unstoppable current that had been restrained way too long. He wrapped both arms around the lithe athletic frame, weighing almost nothing on him it seemed, bringing the man closer to him and peppering his face with kisses. He did it with such urgency, an outsider would have thought it was Len’s last chance to ever kiss his boyfriend, like he was drowning and needed this touch to stay afloat, had found an oxygen tank in the shape of a scarlet speedster.

And Barry- well, he wasn’t holding up much better. Had he ever said “I love you” so bluntly before, without hiding the statement under a few other sentences to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal? And wasn’t it worse than saying nothing at all, to tell someone you loved them then bury those words under futilities just because you were too scared of being vulnerable? He shouldn’t feel that way with Len because technically, when you decide to date someone it means you also trust them, right? And you’re not supposed to feel ill at ease or shy around them, because they know so much about you that you should be able to relax in their presence.  
Wasn’t Leonard way out of his comfort zone at that moment? For someone who struggled so much with trust and emotions, he had put in a great deal of work into their relationship, trying to better his people skills and get more comfortable as time passed. So why couldn’t Barry do the same?

He had been terrified lately, thinking everything he had could be taken from him. It wasn’t new, this fear, but with the increase in metahuman threats, breaches between worlds, doppelgangers, and the risks tied to time travel —he could tell this one would become more and more common in the near future— he simply couldn’t shake the feeling. Somehow, he had convinced himself that caring less about people, not throwing everything he had in any kind of relationship that came his way, would shelter him when loss came to reclaim whatever had been build.

But it didn’t work that way, did it? Just because you don’t allow yourself to crash and burn doesn’t mean the endgame will hurt any less, and when all hell breaks lose, what do you have? Half formed friendships, remorse, and regrets. If he had allowed himself to ruin his relationship with Len, would the outcome not have slapped him across the face anyway? In the end, love —any kind of it— was just like speed: if Barry wanted to make a difference, he had to give it his all. Stopping the Reverse Flash, it had taken so much work, so much trust, and more pain than the team could possibly deal with. Everyone had given so much, worked so hard under the worst possible circumstances, and here he was, sabotaging something great just because he was scared. Well, that was the end of it. No more holding back, now it would be two hundred percent or nothing. And Barry being generous, he never gave _nothing_.

So the forensic brought his hands up behind his lover’s neck, all light touches and small smiles, and kissed his lips one last time before crushing the mood (all for Len’s benefit) as subtly as he could:

“When I see your face… There’s not a thing that I would change…”

“Oh god, Barry no,” Len groaned, only refraining himself from rolling his eyes because he needed them to find the goddamn vodka again. Not that he wasn’t thankful his scarlet speedster was trying to save the both of them the awkwardness that would unfailingly follow, but two doses of awkward didn’t cancel each other out. Not that Barry seemed to notice.

“Because you’re amazing! Just-the-way-you-are!”

“That’s it Red, I’m drinking myself to sleep tonight.” With that he shoved the younger one aside, clearing the way to his liquid salvation. He had barely made to reach out for it when Barry grabbed his arm, cackling and whining all at the same time.

“Come on Len, don’t sober-zone me, that’s cruel!”

Len tried to make his face as cold as his alter ego but failed miserably, a fond smirk tugging at his lips. “The world is cruel kiddo, might as well learn the hard way.”

“Please, Lenny, we can…” (a cunning grin morphed into a seemingly innocent smile, but not fast enough for Len not to notice) “We can work it out, we can wo-”

“Stop quoting songs to me…” It was Len’s turn to look every bit the devious mischief maker he actually was, as he waited a second to add a dreadful: “Bartholomew.” The answer was an immediate, horrified gasp.

“Oh okay that’s it, you just won a one-way ticket to serenading hell, mister Snart.”

Before he could utter a single word, said mister Snart brought a half laughing, half brainstorming-for-horrible-love-songs speedster to his chest, rearranging the both of them on the couch so Len was promptly lying on his back, sandwiched between the cushions and his light-weight boyfriend.

“How about we cuddle and forget about this?”

Readjusting his legs so they would rest between Len’s, Barry nodded appreciatively before chuckling. “Care to repeat that? I need a recording of your voice when you say ‘cuddle’, for posterity.”

After a fit of shoving and vicious tickles, they both fell silent, probably basking in the glory that was their successful attempt at fixing most of their problems in just one night. At least, that’s what Barry was doing until Len’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

It took the CSI a couple of seconds before he understood what his lover was referring to. When he did, he sighed dejectedly, reminding himself of the resolutions he had taken less than half an hour ago. “Because I’m Barry Allen, the eternal optimist. Whether people around me realize it or not, that’s the role they make me play, and I feel like I don’t have many options when I’m the one who needs a little cheering up. Ideally, I should never need those things.”

This earned him a sigh from Len, who protectively wrapped both arms around his waist. Twisting his face a little, he dropped a kiss on top of Barry’s beautiful, but overly stuffed with unnecessary worries, head.

“Now I’d love to be chivalrous and say you don’t have to play roles with me, unless that’s what turns you on, but actually you don’t have to play any role with anyone. Your little friends aren’t making you do anything, Barry, you’re doing a great job at forcing other people’s imaginary expectations on yourself. You think they want you to be a certain way, so you act accordingly, thus whatever ideas they weren’t even aware they had are validated, and the vicious circle keeps spinning. You’re doing this to yourself, kid. You think too much.”

Mildly relieved, the younger one looked up a little, making mandatory eye contact with his wannabe-therapist. “You think so?”

“The whole world thinks so, Scarlet,” Len huffed with an eyeroll.

“That’s a lot of thinking. Mick wouldn’t like that.”

Actually, had he been there, the pyromaniac would have long hurled whatever he could find at the two men, kindly urging them to “ _make out and be done with it already!_ ”

Surprisingly enough, as irrational and scary as he could get, it had been fairly easy to warm up to the guy. No pun intended.

“What he also wouldn’t like is you keeping me from drinking, Red, so we better keep that between us.”

Barry chuckled. “What do you want? I’m the preventive type of guy, looking out for your health and everything.”

“Liar,” Len merely replied before shifting a little under the added weight on top of him. “Well, I’ve discussed my inner turmoils enough for a whole year. I suppose we could call this a night?”

“Hm, depends,” Barry replied with a shit-eating grin before sitting up, pushing Len’s legs over so they could pretend to be civilized adults with impeccable posture. “Are you ready to break out the safe word?”

The older man couldn’t help but wince at the low blow. That whole “safe word” thing had started out as a joke, but somehow they had ended up depending heavily on it. Leonard would always try to find a way to escape cheesy conversations altogether, while Barry would sometimes chicken out or elude certain parts of the discussion, especially if something upsetting had to be said. They had picked a few choice words and phrases so awful that they knew they had reached their emotional breaking point if either of them decided to utter any of those safe words instead of pushing their conversation further.

As was the case with Len at that moment if the barely audible, muttered through gritted teeth “ _Hartley Rathaway is your true nemesis_ ” was any indication. Of course, being the ever sensitive boyfriend, Barry burst out laughing and he would probably have rolled over and fallen on the floor again had he still been lying down on his lover. It wasn’t like the rogue would have secured him into place, if the hard look on his face was anything to go by.

“Alright, alright, we’re done for tonight then. But hey, if it makes you feel better,” he added, scooting closer to Len so he could whisper in his hear, “you’re my favorite nemesis. I like you more than either of the Tricksters.”

“Wow, thank you Barry, I’ll remember that forever. The moment I rose above psychopaths in your general ranking of villains. Really warms me up.”

“See? I knew it would help bring some joy to your old bones,” the speedster grinned as he finally got up. Turning around, he held out a hand to his heart’s number one villain. “Leonard Snart.”

“Bartholomew Allen.”

“Shall we initiate contact in the bedroom to celebrate yet another adverted crisis?” the aforementioned inquired, one hip jutting out suggestively. It was, to all intents and purpose, more adorkable than sexy, but Len would never crush the man’s dreams by saying this out loud. He wasn’t quite _that_ cold.

So instead he rose from the couch as well and, brushing the offered hand with his fingertips, he said softly: “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
